


we got our love in the backseat

by moonisland



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Just A Lot Of It, KuroTsukki Fluff Week 2018, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonisland/pseuds/moonisland
Summary: Eight ways Kuroo and Tsukishima are in love.





	1. day 1: firsts

**Author's Note:**

> WELL. IT'S BEEN EMBARRASSINGLY LONG SINCE I LAST WROTE ANYTHING FOR THIS FANDOM SO IT TRULY IS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE. this year has been capital A Awful so i hope this makes your day a little better like they do mine :) lesson of the year: krtk is Forever. merry kurotsukimas!
> 
> title from dre'es - warm as the only song i listen to as i wrote all of them everyday.

“Look,” Tetsurou starts, and immediately stops when he receives a glare.  
  
“Shut up,” Tsukishima says, tone icy.  
  
Years ago, Tetsurou might have backed off. He likes to push, but he’s always had a soft spot this boy, as his teammates like to point out. But boys turn into men, and Tetsurou knows enough now to notice the slight shake in his words, a tilt of embarrassment. He can’t help the fond grin. “Tsukki,” he says, somehow managing to sound patient and amused. It’s a tone he’s adapted from being childhood friends with Kenma, one he’s mastered the moment he manages to slip his way into Tsukishima’s life. He’s an expert, alright. “You just fell on ice. It’s not a big deal. Everyone falls on their butt on their first time.”  
  
Tsukishima, even with flush high on his cheeks behind his scarf and glasses askew, manages to look both graceful and dignified as he sits silently on the floor. And murderous, Tetsurou definitely isn’t forgetting the murderous part. People skate around them, some people laughing silently at them while others look on sympathetically. Tsukishima looks up at him with a flat look. “And you thought bringing me here is a good idea,” he grits, tone accusatory.  
  
“Yes, because I thought I could trick you into holding my hand the whole time,” Tetsurou tells him, shameless. The flush turns deeper, and Tetsurou likes to think it’s not caused by the cold. He crouches down carefully, making sure to stay close so he doesn’t block anyone’s path. “And I know you’re curious about it. Daichi told me there’s no ice rink around your hometown.”  
  
That makes Tsukishima pause. He blinks slowly, and Tetsurou feels silly that he’s a little entranced by Tsukishima’s eyelashes. To quote his best friend, he’s hopeless. “There are some in Miyagi,” Tsukishima mutters softly, “and I wasn’t that curious.”  
  
Tetsurou smiles. “Okay,” he shrugs easily, “now let me help you up.”  
  
“I regret this already,” Tsukishima sighs, but he pushes himself straighter and holds onto Tetsurou’s hands. His legs are still shaky, but he stays close to him, pressing his hands on Tetsurou’s biceps to steady himself.  
  
“I haven’t even told you where we’re having dinner,” Tetsurou informs him cheerfully.  
  
Tsukishima pulls away a little to give him a glare, although the moment he sways, he pulls himself towards Tetsurou again. His breath is warm against Tetsurou’s cheek. “If there’s candle, I’ll block your number.”  
  
Tetsurou skates backward slightly, making sure his grip on Tsukishima’s waist is strong enough to hold him up. “No candles,” he promises, and adds, “Not on the first date, Tsukki.”  
  
“You’re insufferable,” Tsukishima tells him. His expression is annoyed, but he still lets Tetsurou holds his hand and pulls him on the ice rink, his voice softening.  
  
“It’s my best charm,” he says, and can’t help the breathless giggle he lets out when Tsukishima pinches his wrist, hard. He totally deserves that, but at the end of the hour Tsukishima laces their fingers together, so Tetsurou takes it as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1074530816875626496).


	2. day 2: cats and dinosaurs/late night walks

Kuroo never says it out loud, but Kei knows the older hates his room.

He can see it from the way he cringes slightly whenever he enters it, and Kei feels a little mean about it, but he can’t help the chuckle that comes out every single time he sees Kuroo’s expression. Kei isn’t sure what causes it—he thought the highly realistic dinosaur models were the cluprit, but Kuroo is the one who keeps buying him there things, so it’s probably not the case—but he doesn’t really hold it against him, honestly. Kei doesn’t hold any significant attachment towards the simple bedroom even though he’s slepth there all his life. It’s just a room.

Beside, Kuroo being there every single week, filling the room with his ugly laugh and loud exclamation and cheesy lines—that’s more important to Kei.

Tonight as well, as soong as he steps into the room, Kuroo makes a face. Kei snorts. “It’s cold,” he says, giving him a pass.

Kuroo blinks at him and grins. “Warmer with you here, Tsukki.”

“Get out,” Kai says flatly, smiling at himself as Kuroo laughs and throws himself on his bed. Kuroo makes a satisfied noise, inhaling deeply as he presses his face into the pillow. Kei thinks of the distance between cities, and runs his fingers through Kuroo’s disastrous hair. “Tired?”

“Just trying to inhale as much of your scent for the week,” Kuroo replies, his voice muffled.

Kei sighs, but his fingers doesn’t stop. “I swear you’re just trying to get me to actually kill you sometimes.”

“Kuroo turns, his expression playful. “To die by your hand will be the sweetest death of all,” he croons.

“Die then.”

Kuroo laughs and catches his hand, pressing his lips against the inside of Kei’s wrist as he catches his hand. “Miss you,” he says. His smirk is as annoying as ever, but his eyes are gentle. Kei breathes, and lets himself be pulled down.

 

 

Two hours later, Kei has about enough of Kuroo’s squirming, and he slaps Kuroo’s thigh as he announces, “We’re going out.”

“We are?” Kuroo asks, but he gets up and follows him obediently, catching the jacket Kei throws at him easily. It isn’t until they’re standing in front of his gate, shuddering from the night air, that Kuroo asks again, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Kei admits as he starts walking, not waiting for Kuroo but knowing that the older is on his feet anyway, “but out. You’re driving me crazy in there. If you moved one more time I would have thrown something at you, and I’m not about to sacrifice any of my figurines just because you’re being unbearably annoying.”

There’s silence, and when Kei turns Kuroo is biting his lips, a glint of guilt in his eyes. Kei raises an eyebrow. Kei rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “You noticed,” is all he says.

Kei rolls his eyes. “Of course i do. You’re the only other person in the room, Kuroo-san. And I was sitting right beside you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, although there’s something in his tone that makes Kei frown.

“Is everything okay?”

Kuroo turns to look at him, and now it’s Kei who squirms under his gaze. He’s not about to point the problem out, content with letting it lie there untouched, and Kuroo has always been too good in reading him. It’s no surprise that Kuroo chuckles and moves closer towards him, pressing the length of his arm against Kei’s. “Everything’s good,” he says. “Just me being weird, i guess. You know me.”

Kei does. He may not be as receptive, but after months, even he recognizes habits and patterns, and he knows how Kuroo works. It’s why he nudges Kuroo softly and says, “You can tell me.”

They reach a park, one that kei barely notices anymore every time he walks pass it every day. There’s a pair of swings. Kuroo makes a noise and before Kei knows it, the older is running towards it, laughing. Kei rolls his eyes and follows, pace slower. Kuroo is frowning at the seat when he reaches it. “This is the smallest swing in existence,” he complains.

“It’s for children, as most swings are,” Kei tells him.

“That’s unfair and you know it.”

“Kei smiles and takes the swing that’s not being glared at, sitting in it easily.

“I can’t believe my boyfriend is rubbing it in my face that my ass is too fat to enjoy some childhood pleasure.”

“Sounds like a bad boyfriend,” Kei shrugs.

He means it as a joke—they’ve gone through enough for him to be confident enough in the relationship, old insecurities and disbelief left behind with every single week that Kuroo appears on his doorstep, consistent in his persistency—but Kuroo crouches down in front of him and puts a hand on his knee. Kei looks up and Kuroo’s expression is as honest and open as he always knows it to be. His eyes are soft. hey’re the eyes that convine Kei in the first place, so it’s no surprise that his heart skips a beat. “You’re best boyfriend ever, Tsukki,” Kuroo says jokingly, but there’s a hint of genuine awe in his voice.

“Don’t call me that.” Kei tries to ignore the blush on his face as his asks, “Why do you hate my room so much?”

Kuroo groans and flops backward to sit on the ground. “And here I thought you’re going to let it go,” he says, but he sighs as he gazes at him silently, waiting. “I don’t hate it. I really don’t. It’s just a little uncomfortable there.”

“Why?”

He bites his lower lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?” He waits until Kei nods before he sighs again, continuing. “It just... doesn’t feel lived in. Like, obviously there are your personal belongings, but I was kind of expecting the room to be _you_ , you know? I want to feel at home there because I know I’ll be there a lot, but every time it just feels a little... hollow. I love it there, of course, because you’re there as well, but at the same time I feel like I’m waiting for the feeling to change and it just doesn’t, and that keeps throwing me off.”

Kei doesn’t really understand, but he does get it, he thinks. His mind flies towards the first time he visits Kuroo in Tokyo, the first time him being there doesn’t relate to any school or club activities. He remembers how warm the room is. Kuroo’s clothes piled in the corner of the room, his posters slightly tilted, various pictures tacked above his desk. Kei has entered the room and thinks, _this is_ _Kuroo Tetsurou._

Apparently it’s not the same case with his room. He doesn’t really notice it, but it’s probably true. he’s only in his room to sleep and study. He spends most of his time at school or at Ukai-san’s store with the others. It’s his escape not because of the comfort, but because of the silence. He doesn’t hate it. He doesn’t have any particular feeling about it. It’s a room.

But he looks at Kuroo and he thinks he knows where he’s coming from, a little. He’s learnt to do that, lately. Different perspectives. It’s only been months, yet Kei has allowed this boy to influence him this much. Maybe it’s pathetic, but mostly he just feels content.

“Make a home out of it, then,” Kei shrugs, pushing himself slightly on the swing, swaying gently.

Kuroo looks at him in silence, his expression unchanged. Slowly, his eyes crinkle, and he lets out a weird and loud laugh. Kei is pretty sure he’s scaring some wild cats away. “You don’t want to give me that permission, Tsukki.”

“Don’t I?” He says, eyebrow arching. He knows what he’s going to starts, and he knows that he’s fine with it. Annoyed, for certain, but Kei’s learnt to take it in stried. Anticipate it in ways he doesn’t know he can be, now. Kei pinches the back of Kuroo’s hand on his knee. “And stop with that nickname.”

 

 

“You’re right, I don’t want them. I take it back.”

Kuroo laughs, but he presses himself against Kei’s side, his arm around his shoulders. He’s shorter than Kei, but he nuzzles softly against the side of Kei’s neck and hums. Kei shivers, but refrains from elbowing his side. “I think they’re beautiful,” Kuroo says.

Beside the display of his dinosaur figurines, there are now some small cat plushies. They’re the first thing Kuroo shows him the moment Kei opens his door for him. They’re dumb and ugly and a little pointless, and Kei honestly doesn’t want to know where he gets them. He doesn’t ask. Instead, he turns slightly and presses his lips against Kuroo’s ear and whispers, “If you start leaving your clothes in my room, I’m going to burn them.”

Kuroo cackles into his neck, arms winding around Kei’s waist from behind. It can’t be helped that Kei laughs along with him. The older really does have the most horrifying laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1075051765584879616).


	3. day 3: sunrise/sunset

Tetsurou is surprised to see Tsukishima when he wanders around after his nightly bathroom run at 4 in the morning, but he manages to not jump when they almost run into each other. “Oh,” he says, mostly out of reflex, and stops because he’s not sure what else to say. Tsukishima gazes at him with a blank expression, lips slightly turned up but otherwise seemingly unbothered. He bows a little before he walks past Tetsurou without a word.

Now, Tetsurou isn’t that nosy no matter what his friends say, and he does need the sleep in order to have the stamina he needs to go through yet another day of camp, but Tsukishima is a junior walking around in an unfamiliar place at the crack of day. Tetsurou is just being nice, okay. If anything, everyone from Karasuno should thank him for taking care of one of their younger members.

At least that’s what he’s telling the unimpressed voice in his head, the one that sounds suspiciously like Kenma.

He makes sure to make as much sound as possible as he follows Tsukishima’s steps, just so he seems less like a creep and more like the concerned senior he is. Tsukishima slows before he turns around, his eyebrow raised. Tetsurou is slightly impressed—whenever he tries that expression he just looks like he smells something nasty.

“What are you doing?” Tsukishima’s flat voice pulls him out of his head. He’s stopped walking.

Tetsurou catches up to him and rubs his upper arms, shivering slightly. He looks around the empty corridor. “What are _you_ doing?”

He’s being annoying, he knows, but Tsukishima doesn’t seem like he’s inclined to fight back. He simply sighs and attempts to move away from him, shifting slightly. Tetsurou, for some reason, finds it endearing that he makes sure it’s not noticable. “Go back to your room, Kuroo-san.”

“I will if you do as well,” he replies easily.

Tsukishima’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t roll his eyes, but Tetsurou feels it in his soul that he just gets eye-rolled at. “Suit yourself,” he mutters, starting to walk again. It’s stupid, but Tetsurou grins as he falls into step beside him.

They end up at the top of the hill where Karasuno spends almost half the day running up on. It’s so cold that it feels like the air is prickling at his skin. They both have their jackets on, but there’s slight puff of air coming out of Tsukishima’s parted lips, and he doesn’t really think as he pulls his outer layer off to put it around Tsukishima’s shoulders.

Tetsurou regrets it the moment the wind passes through them, gritting his teeth to stop them from clacking, but that feeling dissipates a little when he notices the flush creeping up Tsukishima’s cheeks, visible even in the dim light. Tsukishima’s body seems to lock up, but he doesn’t make a move to reject Tetsurou’s gesture. “A gentleman, aren’t you?”

“I’m a nice guy,” Tetsurou replies automatically, chuckling at the baffled look Tsukishima throws at him.

“You’re going to get sick,” Tsukishima says, still not giving the jacket back.

No one knows except for Kenma’s mom, but Tetsurou has stupid weak immune system, so he definitely will. He simply shrugs and presses his arms into his armpit, soaking up as much warm from his own body. “Your presence is warmth enough.” _Tsukki,_ he swallows back, not really sure he gets to say it after he clearly offends him just a few days ago. Sure, Bokuto still uses that nickname throughout the night they practice together, but Tetsurou threads lightly. He’s not a complete asshole. He clears his throat. “Look at us, watching the sunrise together. Peak of romance, if you ask me.”

The sun hasn’t risen, and there’s a few more hours before it happens. Tsukishima doesn’t seem to care as he snorts. “You need to be with someone you actually like for any romance to happen.”

“Don’t you like me?” Tetsurou gasps, appropriately horrified. He’s probably pushing it.

The snort turns into a soft laughter, though, and Tetsurou grins. He doesn’t really know how to navigate himself around Tsukishima, and it’s a foreign feeling to him. It’s not that he needs to crack open everyone he meets, but Tetsurou is used to being a step ahead of them. With Tsukishima it feels less like walking and more like stumbling, and Tetsurou would be lying if he says he’s not the littlest bit intrigued. His sarcastic words are softened (or sharpened, depending how you look at it) with how obviously well-mannered he is, yet his politeness is overshadowed by how openly disinterested he is in everything.

He’s not the first mystery Tetsurou encounters, but he’s the only one seemingly clear enough to pull Tetsurou in. It’s an enigma.

“Sawamura-san said you approached him,” Tsukishima suddenly says. “Yesterday.”

“Ah,” Tetsurou says. He completely forgets, to be honest. Tsukishima’s vague story is somewhere in his mind, but seeing as it comes from someone else, Tetsurou doesn’t bother to pick it apart. “Yeah.”

“Do you have something to say to me?”

It should sound like a challenge, but all Tetsurou can hear is a slight curiosity. Tsukishima doesn’t look at him, but there’s an easy expression on his face, like he doesn’t see Tetsurou and their predicament as a problem.

It’s probably the shock that he’s no longer seen as a nuisance (which he knows he can be, and has accepted gracefully, thanks) that pushes him to blurt out, “I’m sorry.” Tetsurou blunders, realizing that he’s blushing hard when Tsukishima finally turns towards him. Get it together, dude. “I kind of overstepped, that first night. I do that a lot, but you—we don’t know each other, so I said some shit I probably shouldn’t. I apologize.”

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, and Tetsurou’s words get swept away by the wind. He expects awkwardness to fall thickly on them, but Tsukishima keeps staring at him. He’s observing him, Tetsurou realizes, weighing his words and deciding... something. Tetsurou doesn’t know, but he’s hit with a sudden desperation to understand the meaning beneath those eyes.

Tetsurou isn’t sure how many minutes or hours pass, but eventually Tsukishima scoffs softly and turns away. The sky is a mix of orange and purple, and the first hint of light is reflected on his glasses, casting shadow on his face. He looks calm. Tetsurou turns towards the view as well, letting the silence envelops them.

The silence feels like approval. Tetsurou knows it’s probably wishful thinking, but he’s not called an optimist for nothing.

Tsukishima moves when the sun suddenly rises, the sound of birds and activities around them starting up. He pulls Tetsurou’s jacket off and pushes it against his chest. Tetsurou accepts it quietly, not commenting on the way their fingers brush. The jacket is warm when he shrugs it on. It still smells like himself, which makes sense since it’s not even worn properly by Tsukishima, but he’s disappointed anyway. Tetsurou tries not to analyze the reason for that too deeply.

At the intersection separating the rooms for their schools, Tsukishima says, “I like the sunrise.” His voice is soft. It doesn’t hold any weight, airy in the morning light, but he blinks at himself for a few seconds, seemingly flustered.

“Okay,” Tetsurou says, not wanting to let the words slip from his grasp. Tsukishima looks up, blinks a few times, and nods, mostly to himself. He turns and walks away, pace steady.

Tetsurou’s eyes are heavy and his throat is dry from how cold he is. He’s still shivering, goosebumps rising all over his body. His nose is slightly clogged and he can feel a heavy flu coming, but he grins widely. He’s unsure of what just happened, but there’s a deep satisfaction lying at the bottom of his stomach, and he lets it grow quietly as he goes back to his own room.

Tomorrow, he knows he will see another sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1075379183625203712).


	4. day 4: cooking/playlist

Kenma likes Tsukishima. Really. He’s quiet but not boring, polite but not intrusive, and despite the disinterest in his face, it’s obvious that he makes an effort to be a good company whenever they hang out together for whatever reason. If there’s an apocalypse and he needs to find a partner to kill zombies with, Tsukishima wouldn’t be his last choice. And he seems to make Kuro extremely happy, even though that happiness can grate on his patience at times.

As he stares at the lump on the plate, he starts to reevaluate his view.

“Kuro,” Kenma says, poking at it with his fork as Kuro hums in acknowledgement, “your boyfriend can’t cook.”

Kuro chokes on his coffee and starts spluttering, jumping at Kenma with the speed of light even as he coughs. Kenma scrunches his nose in disgust, pushing his face away as he wheezes. “Don’t say that too loudly,” Kuro hisses, gripping his shoulders tight.

Somehow Kenma is safe from the splatter of coffee from Kuro’s disgusting mouth, most of them falling on the table when Kuro practically runs at him, but he still moves away in repulsion. He sips at his tea when he’s already in yet another safe distance from his best friend. “Say the truth?”

“He’s trying his best,” Kuro says, voice still low. He says it in urgency, eyes darting around to probably make sure Tsukishima is not in the hearing distance, but there’s a sappy tone underlying it. Kenma is, frankly, grossed out. “They’re still edible, so don’t be an ass to my boyfriend.”

Kenma looks over at the burnt marks all over the food that’s supposed to be a mountain of pancakes. On the part that’s not charred, he can see the raw batter still moving. It’s impressive how _not_ edible it is. “Right,” he says, giving up and going back to sipping his tea again.

Kuro sighs. “Look, I’ll buy you some food at the convenient store. Just let me eat those and shut up.”

“Who are you telling to shut up?” Kenma turns to look at Tsukishima comes out of their room. His hair is slightly wet and there’s some condensation on his glasses, most probably from the shower. He still looks impeccable in his sweater and jeans, though. Kenma tilts his mug at him and Tsukishima nods at him in greeting. “Don’t be rude to our guest.”

“Kenma isn’t a guest, he’s my best friend,” Kuro replies, grin spreading easily on his face. He pulls Tsukishima towards him and nuzzles against the side of his neck. Tsukishima tsks and throws Kenma an apologetic look. Kenma shrugs, but he smiles. It’s cute, in a way that makes him want to lock them away from him. Kenma doesn’t mind it in small doses. “And Kenma was complaining because I tried to take his pancakes for myself. I’m still hungry.”

Tsukishima lets him in his arms for a few moments before he pinches Kuro’s waist, pushing him off of him. “You’ve eaten my share as well, Tetsurou. How can you even eat more?”

What a good question. Kenma shudders a little at the though of eating two portions of... that, but Kuro, knowingly, glares at him when Tsukishima looks away. He plasters another smile when Tsukishima glances at him. “I guess I just love your cooking so much.”

Kenma has to give it to him. He sounds sincere enough—probably is, actually, knowing him. Kuro has always been weak for domesticity like this. Living together with Tsukishima, spending their mornings together eating some horrible food; they’re practically all of his dreams coming true.

His eyes fall towards the bandages all over Tsukishima’s fingers, shallow cuts on parts that’s barely covered, and he thinks maybe Kuro isn’t the only person living their dreams. Kenma decides to take pity on his best friend. “I’m good with this, Kei,” he says, rising his mug. “And I took the apple in the fridge. Hope it’s fine.”

Tsukishima turns towards him and gives him a smile. It’s been years since they met, long enough since they started interacting enough to form a friendship, and somehow Kenma is always taken aback by how earnest he can be. The closed-off boy he knows vaguely from Shoyou’s complaints and rare glimpse in their joint camp is gone, replaced by the man who kisses his best friend quietly, a ghost of smile staying on his face.

“Well,” he says, patting Kenma’s shoulder gently. There’s a flush across his nose. “I’m going then. Am I seeing you at dinner?”

“I’m cooking,” Kuro adds, giving him a pointed look.

Kenma shrugs. He hides his smile as he finishes the last of his drink. “Sure,” he says. “Thanks, Kei.”

 

 

It’s clear by the third song that this isn’t Tsukki’s usual playlist, and it’s only out of the politeness ingrained in him that he waits until the fifth song that he says "This is awful.”

Tsukki doesn’t even blink or turn from the road; he simply sighs and says, “I know.”

“Is there a reason why you’re playing these?”

There’s a perk to being childhood friends, and being one with Tsukishima Kei just means that he gets to poke and prod at things others will usually get shut down at. Tadashi knows better than to exploit that right, so he uses them on things that don’t really matter. Although, knowing how serious Tsukki treats his music, Tadashi feels like he’s stumbling upon something kind of important here.

Turns out his instinct is right, because Tsukki’s cheeks start to burn, and he’s chewing at his lips. Embarrassment, Tadashi knows, and he grins even before his best friend replies dejectedly, “He makes a whole playlist for me.” He scrunches his nose in slight disgust, although Tadashi can read it as awkwardness it is. “Spent the whole night scouring through the internet for the right songs, apparently. Puts it in my phone himself.”

Tadashi barely stops himself from giggling. “That’s sweet,” he says.

“It’s horrible,” Tsukki groans, immediately pressing his head against the steering wheel the moment they stop at traffic light. “You should see how eager he was. He tried to explain what the songs mean but I stopped listening the moment he mentioned Kyary. I had to listen to fucking PonPonPon just _now_ , Tadashi. He’s killing me.”

“I'm sure he tried his best,” Tadashi tries, although he’s not a fan of the song itself, at least not enough to defend it in any way. It’s more personal preference rather than a personal insult the way it is for Tsukki, though. And he feels like he owes Kuroo this one after he blatantly talks his music taste down. Deserved as it is.

“I listened to it when I picked you up,” Tsukki says gloomily, seemingly unable to stop now that Tadashi has open the flood gate. “They’re horrible. There’s either way too many bass or high pitched crooning. I’m in hell.”

“Why don’t you change it, then?”

Tadashi knows the answer even before he forms the question. It’s the same reason why Kuroo keeps eating his best friend’s God awful cooking, the same reason Tsukki forces himself into the kitchen even when his fingers are wrapped in way too many bandages to be hygienic, the way they both swallow the bitterest pill just to see the other brighten even the slightest bit.

Tsukki flushes. “He makes them for me,” he answers quietly, looking like he just drinks the most sour lemonade even when his cheeks slowly turn rosy. He changes the gear and immediately snaps, “Shut up,” even before Tadashi opens his mouth.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi replies easily.

They’re both hopeless, and it warms his heart that he gets to see it. He wishes he gets to have something like that one day. For now, Tadashi laughs and falls back into his seat, preparing himself for a whole journey of bad songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1075764440237142019).


	5. day 5: lazy mornings

The first thing Kei notices is the weight over his arm, which elevates when he groans in displeasure. The second thing his brain picks up is someone breathing near his face and he smiles when he realizes where he is.

Sadly, not even affection can cover up how unpleasant morning breath is, so Kei scrunches his nose and flails his hand, pushing the face in front of him away the moment he makes contact with some skin. “Gross,” he mumbles.

A hand catches his wrist, and it slowly moves towards his fingers, tangling them together. “Morning,” Kuroo whispers. Kei can hear the grin in his voice, and he helplessly lets himself smile, keeping his eyes closed.

“Good morning, Kuroo,” he allows.

“It certainly is now,” Kuroo replies smoothly, and Kei snorts even as heat climbs up his face. He hears Kuroo’s breath hitches. “Oh,” he says, and Kei doesn’t manage to shut him up before the older continues, “Is that how you look when I make you blush first thing in the morning? Because I’ve just made it my life mission to do it for the rest of our life.”

It’s awful and certainly exaggerated, but Kei knows his blush turns darker anyway. He’s half-asleep, damn it. Kuroo is being extremely unfair, and he’s fighting a losing battle. “You—,” he starts, opening his eyes a little to send his boyfriend a glare, but then he catches sight of the man in his bed with him. “Your hair.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes up, as if he can see his hair by doing that. “What?”

“They’re... not awful.”

“Thanks,” Kuroo snorts, running a hand through the strands to mess it up. “I assume it’s because they’re not up?”

Kei unconsciously raises a hand to touch it. It’s soft, the darkness of it contrasts with his pale skin. He moves it slowly, feeling the texture beneath his fingertips, and Kuroo tilts his head a little to allow it. For some reasons, it makes him breathless. “They’re really not.”

Kuroo watches him silently, a small smile gracing his lips. “There’s an art to my awesome hairstyle, you know,” he says. Kei scoffs, but allows Kuroo to move closer towards him, fingers still gently running through his hair as he hovers over him. “Really! There’s a certain sleeping position, a specific pillow to use, a whole plan to follow the night before. It’s an exhaustive routine, Kei.” A pause, both in their breath and their movement. Kuroo leans down and presses his nose along Kei’s jaw. “You’ve ruined it now.”

God, he’s so dumb. Kei is probably dumber for having his heart skipping two beats. Ridiculous, he thinks, as he says, “I apologize, then.”

Kuroo hums. Kei knows better than to play along, but Kuroo’s body is warm against him. His hair is still stupidly soft, and his breath is hot against Kei’s neck. “I guess it’s fine. Having you instead sounds like a good bargain.”

“Oh my God, get away from me,” Kei hisses, finally shoving him towards the side. Kuroo laughs, breaking the heavy atmosphere surrounding them with his loud cackle. Kei’s face is still burning. “You’re the worst. And you need to brush you teeth, your breath smells like cat pee.”

“Nooo,” Kuroo whines when Kei sits up and pushes the comforter off of him. “Come back, I don’t want to face the world just yet. Let me wax more poetries about the constellation of freckles on your shoulders and how your hair looks like the sunlight! Kei! Come back here!”

“I have no freckles,” Kei says drily, throwing his pillow at him as Kuroo laughs louder. “And I prefer basic hygiene than you, so tough luck. Get your ass up.”

Kuroo starfishes on the bed, sighing deeply. “Oh, to be burned and soothed by the same tongue. Whatever can I do to mend this broken heart? All I wish is his body next to mine, yet I’m nothing in the face of a glass of mouthwash.”

Kei stares at him, both incredulous and reluctantly impressed. “How did you even come up with _that_?”

“Perfect score in Literature,” Kuroo answers easily, pushing himself up slightly. There’s an ugly pout on his face. “You’re really not coming back to bed?”

He feels himself faltering. Damn those manipulative eyes. “I’m not going to waste a day just lazing around.”

“It’s called spending quality time with your boyfriend, babe,” Kuroo says patiently, although there’s a teasing tone in his voice that calms Kei’s nerves. “That’s usually what couples do after they have their first sleepover together.”

Sleepover. It’s such a casual way to call—whatever is happening right now, yet Kei knows Kuroo says it for him. Kei never deals well with intimacy, even now, and remembering the patience and gentleness Kuroo keeps showering him throughout the years is almost enough to pull him back into Kuroo’s (most probably) warm arms. He bites his lower lip. “It’s not our first sleepover together.”

Kuroo grins. “As a couple.”

“Ugh,” Kei rolls his eyes, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. “Ten minutes.”

“An hour.”

“Kuroo, no. Fifteen.”

“Half an hour.”

Kei glares at him, but Kuroo seems unbothered, raising an eyebrow and opening his arms. “You’re the worst,” he mutters, but he slids towards the bed and lets himself be folded into the older’s hold. It’s way too hot, but Kei doesn’t feel inclined to move.

“I know,” Kuroo says, voice mumbled against Kei’s hair. “You’re too good to me, Tsukishima Kei.”

The warmth in his belly spreads viciously, sending heat to the tips of his fingers in a blink. He used to be terrified of these feelings, but as he feels Kuroo’s palm against the sliver of skin of his lower back, hot and unmoving and extremely respectful, all his heart is telling him is how safe he is. Too good is not the words he will use to describe the soft _thump, thump, thump_ between them.

“Half an hour,” he warns, his voice softer than he means it to be.

Kuroo snickers. “Half an hour,” he promises.

They leave the bed way past noon, yet Kei can’t bring himself to scold anyone, not even himself for falling into Kuroo’s trap. Kuroo helps him with his university work after lunch anyway. Maybe they deserve this once in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1076145432743440384).


	6. day 6: book/movies

The place is packed, but thankfully Tetsurou has his height as an advantage over the sea of people furiously taking pictures all around him, so he can at least breathe pretty easily. It makes him a little eye-catching, but he thinks he does pretty well with the hoodie and face mask. He also makes sure to hide his hair under a cap, because for all he says about how much he hates it, Tsukishima is extremely good in pointing him out in the crowd by his hair. That alone makes this a lot risky, but Tetsurou grips the bouquet of flowers in his hand tighter and flops into his seat without much fuss.

“First time?” A voice beside him says, and Tetsurou turns to see a petite woman with blonde hair. Her voice is a little shaky, and she seems jittery with nerves. At Tetsurou’s blank stare, she points at his flowers. “They don’t allow gifts in events like this.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly. “Yeah, it’s—I’ve never been into one of these before. Not as an audience anyway.”

The woman tilts her head curiously. “Press?”

“Uh,” Tetsurou fumbles. “Are you Tsukishima Kei’s fan?”

They’re placed on the back of the auditorium with other fans while the invited audience is placed nearer to the stage, so the question isn’t that random. It’s still the most horrible way to change the topic, though. Despite how obviously bad he is in dodging the question, the woman simply blinks before she smiles politely, shaking her head. “No, I’m a fan of the director,” she says, her ears turning red. “It’s her first book-to-movie adaptation, so there’s quite a bit of buzz among fans of her work. I happen to be lucky enough to get ticket.”

Tetsurou’s mind flies towards the strict way Shimizu molds all the actors in her hands into something resembling her ideas, the way the words in the book slowly turns into reality, scene by scene. It’s admirable, to say the least, and Tetsurou can relate pretty well to the adoring eyes of the woman in front of him. “That’s cool. She did a great job, for sure.”

“Yeah?” She chirps excitedly. “I agree. I can see it’s going to be amazing from the trailers alone.”

Oh. Right, it’s unreleased to the public. Tetsurou clears his throat. “Yep.”

“What about you?” She asks, gesturing towards his hand. “Are _you_ Tsukishima Kei’s fan?”

Tetsurou almost laughs, but he dips his head instead, trying not to smile even though he has half of his face covered. His lips buzz from the memory of a touch, and he can feel his face getting hotter. The image of an annoyed scowl is vivid behind his eyes, yet the way his brain conjures the gentle glimmer of eyes is clearer. An embarrassed snap, a reluctant laugh, a soft realization. Every moment runs through Tetsurou’s head the way scenes usually run along his brain.

“You can say that,” Tetsurou allows, probably a beat of silence too late.

The woman looks up at him with wide eyes, but before she says anything the noises across the crowd picks up, and suddenly there’s a man on the stage. It’s the assistant director, and although he doesn’t interact much with the man, Tetsurou remembers his name. Sugawara Koushi introduces himself as Suga, and he bows at the audience, his smile bright. Tetsurou bows at the woman hurriedly, hoping his eyes convey the polite smile he has on his face, and faces forward to pay attention.

Despite his effort, the event is mostly a blur. He perks up when the actors come out on the stage, but the talk about the movie itself is so familiar to him that his brain just kind of tunes them out. One moment Suga is introducing everyone who manages to be there—apologizing about the absence of the writer of the book their movie is about, citing personal problem as a reason, to Tetsurou’s amusement—and the next suddenly a session of Q&A.

It’s the moment Tetsurou’s been waiting for, so he immediately stands up, ignoring the squeak from beside him and the grumbles of protest from behind him. He’s pretty sure the fans aren’t allowed to participate, but he raises his hand and waves it. It’s embarrassing, but Tetsurou’s been through worse so he barely pays attention to people’s slightly horrified reaction.

His height seems to be his savior once again, because Suga’s eyes fly towards him the moment he tries to catch his attention, and his eyebrows raise so high behind his hair. The man coughs, clearly masking his laugh, and lets Terushima talk about the screenwriting process, a question from one of the interviewers. After it’s done he throws a glance towards Tsukishima—who has been paying attention to Teru instead of the rest of the audience—and says, “Right, the one in the back. You can ask your question.”

It’s clearly unexpected, so it takes a moment before a staff manages to run towards him and gives him the mic. He knows it’s too dark to see his face clearly, because Tsukishima is squinting at his direction, clearly puzzled at the unusual bout of event. Tetsurou grins and pulls down his face mask, lodging off his hoodie with his movement as well. He hears a few gasps from around him.

“My question is for Tsukishima Kei,” he says, knowing exactly the moment Tsukishima realizes who’s holding the mic. His smile stretches so wide he can feel the strain on his cheeks. “I heard you’re close to the writer of the novel. What do you think about him?”

Tetsurou can write hundreds of paragraphs talking about the way his eyes widen, how his body seems to tense up before it relaxes even with a tinge of annoyance, the beautiful rosiness dusting his cheeks. Tsukishima looks like he’s two seconds away from jumping into the crowd and wringing his neck, and it’s probably a little pathetic that all he can think of in that scenario is that he’ll let him.

A fan, the question echoes in his mind. He’s definitely way too smitten to call himself that.

The rest of the casts and crews lining up the stage look at Tsukishima with mostly an amused expression—Tooru is even cackling loudly, shameless in his teasing. Suga shrugs and tells him to pick up his mic with a simple, “Tsukishima-san?”

The mic picks up the loud sigh he lets out, and Tetsurou can’t help the snort he lets out. “I think Kuroo Tetsurou is the most annoying pest I’ve ever had to deal with,” he deadpans, causing everyone to laugh, and Tetsurou guffaws along, his laughter bubbling up.

“I hope you still like him, though,” Tetsurou says again. “He’s bringing flowers and all.”

He knows he’s making a spectacle, and the press is probably having a field day even though he’s a mostly unknown writer whose fame only started because an highly acclaimed director picks up his book and deems it worthy enough to be shown to a bigger audience, but Tetsurou barely cares about it all as Tsukishima chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “I hate flowers, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima tells him, his smile sweet as ever.

Well. Some people call the smile sinister and cold, and the smile is more of a smirk, but Tetsurou doesn’t have time to spare for those who refuse to be blessed.

“However,” Tsukishima’s voice continues, and even though Tetsurou knows realistically he can’t actually look into his eyes, it still feels like Tsukishima is talking at him alone. His heartbeat stutters as it usually does when Tsukishima’s attention falls solely on him, and he almost misses the way the edges of his smirk softens. Almost. “I also think Kuroo Tetsurou has a mind ahead of time, and his talent in putting them down into words is one of a kind. I am extremely lucky to be part of this project with him, and to be able to build a—“ A pause, and Tsukishima breathes out a chuckle. “A friendship, with him. It’s been a pleasure to work alongside someone so brilliant.”

His heart soars, and he’s grateful that Suga immediately takes the hint from the long awed silence coming from Tetsurou to pick up the show and continues on. The light around him dims, and Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at his direction, before he smirks again and turns away, looking both satisfied and a little flushed.

Lucky him, Tetsurou thinks, because he thinks he’s dead. Or dying. On the verge of it, really. His heart is beating out of control, the thumping against his rib cage aching desperately with overwhelming fondness and yearning.

He laughs at himself breathlessly, burying his face in the flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1076518662431862785).


	7. day 7: meet the family

Nervousness isn’t a good look on Tetsurou. Kei tells him as much, and all he gets is an incomprehensible grunt. It’s almost endearing, but Kei doesn’t think he can believe his own judgement, considering he even finds Tetsurou’s grumpy pre-coffee state endearing. It’s disgusting.

“Tetsu,” Kei says patiently, pressing a hand on his arm to calm him down a little. Tetsurou is driving, and Kei’s rather fond of his life, currently. Plus, his mom will kill him twice more if he dares die on the way to meet her after months of phone calls only. “You go to meet my family all the time. I’m pretty sure you visit them more than I do nowadays. Why are you even anxious?”

Tetsurou groans. “You really need to cut back on your hours and visit your mom more. She keeps threatening to move into our house if you don’t pull it together. Be grateful I manage to dissuade that.”

“Thank you,” Kei says, his tone flat. “Now tell me what’s wrong with you.”

At first he simply mutters under his breath, and Kei lets the silence stretch, watching Tetsurou without a word. Tetsurou always crumbles, so Kei bids his time. As usual, it proves to be true, because it only takes him two minutes before he relents, throwing a pleading glance at him. “Come on, Kei. I’m sure you understand.” Another silence, and Tetsurou sighs. “It’s just—it’s never like this, you know.”

“Do I?” Kei does know what he means, but he likes pushing Tetsurou’s button. Being together for years now has only made the push stronger, if only because Tetsurou always lets him. “Like what?” He tilts his head, faking curiosity.

“I can read you like a book, Tsukishima Kei,” Tetsurou replies wryly. “Don’t try it.”

“Try what?”

Tetsurou scoffs, but his grip on the steering wheel loosens a little. His other hand reaches blindly, and it’s mostly reflex that makes Kei move his own hand under Tetsurou’s, letting the older tangle their fingers together, his palm warm. He shifts his hand, pressing his ring finger against Kei’s. “You know,” he mutters, “Never like this.”

The cold of metal touches his skin, and Kei barely holds himself from shuddering. Tetsurou, even as he watches the road, clearly notices. It’s a chore trying to hide your feeling when your boyfriend is as perceptive as him, Kei has learned over the years. He simply rolls his eyes as Tetsurou smirks. “I hope Akiteru yell at you.”

It’s an empty wish, considering how much his brother adores him, but the comment drains all color from Tetsurou’s face, and he goes back to whining quietly, pulling their hands apart. Kei laughs and pats him on the head, offering no comfort at all.

*

Unfortunately for Kei, no yelling happens. Akiteru grins widely and gives them the most suffocating (and warmest, Kei has to admit) hug, weeping openly against their shoulders. Kei is a bit uncomfortable, but he hugs his brother closer. He catches Tetsurou’s eyes over his shoulder, watching the way he himself holds Kei’s mother in his arms with bursting fondness. It’s not extinguished even when he realizes, with exasperation, that the older is all teary eyed and close to tears. Again. Kei huffs. “This is supposed to be a happy occasion, all of you.”

His mother turns at him with red face, her smile bright even as her eyes are wet. “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, her voice shaky. “I’m very, very happy for you. No one deserves this as much as you do, Kei.”

That causes his breath to catch, but Kei has already spent all his tears the moment Tetsurou kneels in the middle of their kitchen. All he has left is warm contentment, buried deep beneath his skin, the happiness he used to be so unfamiliar with becoming a part of him. He rolls his eyes, although he smiles softly as her mother folds him into her arms. “Thank you, Mom,” he whispers into her hair, holding her tightly.

After all the tears stop and Tetsurou and Akiteru delves into some talk about their future plans, he feels a ghost of touch against his wrist. He looks up to see his mother smiling at him, gesturing towards her room with a nod of head before she walks away, clearly expecting him to follow. Kei’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he touches Tetsurou’s shoulder to catch his attention, shrugging when Tetsurou throws him a questioning look. “Don’t let him persuade you to move back to Miyagi,” Kei warns.

Akiteru makes an indignant noise, and Tetsurou laughs, pressing a kiss into his wrist. “Gotcha,” he replies, touch tender as ever. “Come back soon.”

It’s ridiculous, he knows. He’s simply going two rooms over with his mother. Yet Kei runs his fingers through Tetsurou’s hair gently, heart filled with emotions too grand, and scoffs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

*

His mother is sitting on her bed and looking down at somethin when Kei opens the door to her room. She turns at the sound of him coming and smiles, patting the space beside her. “You’re still too skinny,” she nags, taking his arm in her small hands. “I keep telling Tetsu to feed you well.”

“Oh, trust me, he tries,” Kei laughs. His eyes fall onto the box on her lap. “What’s that?”

Her mom follows his gaze, and her expression turns even softer. She lets go of his arm and carefully pulls out a smaller box. She chuckles at his curious gaze. “How cliché is it if I tell you this is your father’s wedding ring?”

Kei’s breath catches. They rarely talk about his father, his last memory of him blurry and vague. He never feels like he loses anything, because even though he’s never particularly close with his mother, she’s always there to cater to his needs. And when she slips, there’s always his brother. His brother has always been the only male figure he remembers fondly from his childhood, the oldest son growing up faster than he’s supposed to be.

He never questions it even when he’s come into the age where he would want to know, because when he does, he also comes to the realization that she never talks about him because it breaks her heart. So the memory of his father is a bundle of pages unturned, and he doesn’t try to open it by himself.

Until now, apparently, when her mother pushes the box into his grip. “Mom,” he tries to say, but something clogs his throat and all that comes out is a breath.

She looks at him with understanding. “I never told him this, but when Akiteru told me he’s getting married, it felt like he was leaving us behind,” she says, her voice soft. “I love Saeko, don’t get me wrong, and she’s as much of a family anyone can be, but he’s building a life outside of the three of us. I’m extremely proud of him, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him immediately.” She snorts. “Of course, that turns out to be a false alarm, because he ends up here almost every day anyway.”

Kei’s chuckle is watery. He takes his mother’s hand, eyes not leaving the closed box. He doesn’t dare to open it. “Saeko-san should really keep a leash on him,” he says instead.

His mother laughs, but when he turns towards her, her voice trickles into a soft exhale. “Tetsurou... he never does that, doesn’t he?” He stares at her, and she chuckles. “When he comes into your life, he makes his way into _all_ of our lives. He builds a life for the two of you right here, rearranging our home to make sure we all fit with him here. And he’s doing the same at his own home, for you.”

The words flow through him, and it feels like a zap of epiphany goes all over his body. He knows his mother loves Tetsurou, but when she puts it down the way she does, it only makes sense. He doesn’t manage to answer before her mother’s grip on his hand tightens, and her eyes are bright as she gazes at him. “He would have loved him,” is all she says, letting tears fall onto her cheeks.

Kei nods, his eyes burning, and he buries himself into her mother’s hug, the box digging into his palm. He closes his eyes and envelop himself in the warmth. Outside, he knows his whole world is waiting, but for now, he presses himself into the only home he used to know before a certain someone builds one all around him.

*

(“What’s that?” Tetsurou murmurs against his neck, his arms warm around Kei’s waist.

Kei hums. He traces the edge of the box with his fingertips. It’s still unopened, but he thinks he doesn’t have to. Not now. “My father,” he says.

There’s a lull of silence, and Tetsurou reaches out to straighten the box. He steps away from Kei, and when Kei turns, Tetsurou is bowing at the box. “Sir,” he says, voice thick with sleep yet clear in the morning air. “It is my honor to ask for your permission to marry your son. I hope you’ve watched over us enough to be confident that I will take care of him for the rest of his life.”

Leave it to Tetsurou to throw Kei’s world upside down all over again, even in the quiet of their living room. The sun is barely up, and Kei knows Tetsurou’s only up because he is too accustomed to Kei’s body beside him in the bed to continue sleeping, and yet here he is, stopping Kei’s heart all over again. It’s devastating. It’s magnificent.

“She said he would have loved you,” Kei whispers, pressing his finger against Tetsurou’s chin to make him look up.

“Hm,” Tetsurou says, eyes barely open. His smile holds a tenderness that breaks Kei’s heart in its familiarity, and he kisses Kei’s nose carefully, less like Kei is something fragile and more like he’s precious. Kei, at this point of their relationship, believes him easily. “I’m sure I would have loved him as well.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1076879949812838406).


	8. day 8 & 9: marriage/serenade

Being in love is not something that Kei considers to be part of his future. Had anyone asked him when he was 15, the answer would actually be a definite negative. The idea of caring about someone to a certain level is both terrifying and pointless for him, and he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the idea itself when opening himself up for a passion and a friend took him a while.

Yet here he is, abandoned by someone he thought he could trust with his whole life, all in the name of love.

Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “When did you get this dramatic?”

“Since you decided it’s a good idea to leave me alone at a wedding,” Kei replies.

“Kei. I was ten steps away from you. You can see me right there.”

He isn’t pouting, but he’s certainly displeased and he wants to make that very clear to the man in front of him. “Yeah, but someone came and talked to me when you left. That’s on you.”

Tetsurou snorts, but he steps closer and winds his arm around Kei’s waist. He’s shorter than Kei by a few cm, something that both of them love to use in their fights, but he’s at the perfect height to nuzzle into the side of Kei’s collar. It’s hot. “Another unnecessary social call, huh?” He whispers, grinning. “That _is_ on me. I deserve your wrath, clearly.”

“Clearly,” he sniffs somberly.

“I still can’t decide if you’re scary or cute when you’re drunk,” Tetsurou says, pulling away slightly to look at his face properly.

Kei frowns. He isn’t drunk, he wants to say, but he suddenly realizes that he’s clinging to Tetsurou’s suit. His head is still intact, thankfully, but his limbs have apparently decided to ignore all his commands. His face feels weirdly hot. “I only drank champagne?” It comes out as a question even when he intends it to be a statement. So his tongue is gone, too, apparently.

Tetsurou holds him up, surprisingly steady. Or steady as always, Kei guesses. There are times when he’s the buoy that keeps him upright, and that’s a surprising thought to suddenly enter his brain when he barely has the capacity to stand upright by himself. Alarmingly, he can feel his eyes watering. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice as he simply puts Kei’s arm around his shoulder and lets Kei lean into him more. “You drank eight glasses of champagne,” Tetsurou tells him patiently, although Kei can still see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. “And that’s the ones I actually count. God knows how many you managed to smuggle behind my back.”

“I didn’t,” Kei starts to protest, but then the train of thought dissipates. Suddenly he remembers why he hates drinking alcohol. “I hate drinking alcohol,” he says out loud, knowing full well that he’s scowling.

“I know, babe,” Tetsurou laughs, rubbing his back gently. “I know you hate interacting with these people more than you do alcohol, though, so I guess I should have anticipated this.” He turns and looks around for a bit, before he goes back to nosing against Kei’s cheek, voice low. “Half an hour more, yeah? I’ll handle everything.”

Kei knows he will. He always has, in the absence of Kei’s control—which doesn’t happen often, but happens enough that Kei knows Tetsurou is always there to catch him when he stumbles. He never puts it over Kei’s head when he does, only silently takes his hand and pulls him aside to stand in front of him, a concrete presence in a whirlwhind of everything else. For someone who can be so full of himself (and proud of it), it’s Tetsurou’s silence that Kei remembers the most, every quiet moment burned into his memory.

It’s the reason they’re here in the first place, really. Kei should really put all the blame on Tetsurou. That bastard. Making him actually agree to marry him. Kei is almost offended on behalf of his younger self, but another unknown relative of theirs suddenly appear on their side, and Tetsurou expertly directs all her attention to himself while he keeps his hand warm on Kei’s lower back.

Well. Maybe he did well by agreeing. Good job, Tsukishima Kei. He secretly pats himself on the shoulder.

The relative is gone, apparently, because Tetsurou’s eyes are on him again. “What are you doing?”

“Good job,” he murmurs, tongue heavy. He bites it to stop himself from talking further.

It’s unfortunate, then, that Tetsurou knows him too well, because his eyes turn infinitesmally softer. They always do when he realizes that Kei can’t help but doing something silly because of him. Kei is adult enough to admit that he’s happy that it makes Tetsurou happy, but he’s also stubborn enough to not let himself go all that often.

“Good job, indeed,” Tetsurou repeats, and leans up to press a kiss on his lips. The touch is gentle, barely there, yet it scorches his inside like an overdose of fireworks.

Kei breathes into Tetsurou’s parted lips. Their eyes are open. He can see the crinkle at the edge of Tetsurou’s eyes, the sweep of his short lashes as he blinks slowly, his blown pupils. He can see the words Tetsurou presses into his heart every day for the past five years, now, crystal clear in the golden. Kei doesn’t know what he sees in his own eyes, but he hopes they’re something that can make Tetsurou smile that brightly for the rest of their lives.

“Ugh,” Kei whispers the moment his thought unravels, “we’re disgusting.”

Tetsurou laughs airily, his gentleness gone as he smacks a loud kiss on Kei’s cheek. “Hell yeah we are,” he beams proudly, and Kei helplessly falls.

 

*

Being in love is not something that Tetsurou considers to be part of his future. Contrary to popular belief, he had always been too wrapped up in his personal goal to even entertain the idea of dealing with someone else in his life, lest of all romantically. He had his dreams and his best friends, and that’s all he kept his laser focus on.

Yet to lie beside the man he marries, letting him grumble unhappily against his collar bone as he pinches the side of his neck, seemingly ready to throttle him—it feels a lot like another dream.

“Never again,” Kei mumbles. He looks pained, his brows furrowing deeply as he heaves another slow breath. Tetsurou hums, rubbing his shoulder in an awkward position to offer a small bit of comfort, agreeing silently.

Kei won’t hold it against him, but it really is his fault that they both get stuck dealing with people who barely care about their relationship for the whole night. He knows the amount of sacrifice Kei gives to make the wedding happen at all. Not because he hates the idea of being married itself, but because with Tetsurou’s career comes a lot of people to invite _. A lot._ Way too much for even himself to be comfortable with. It takes them several fights before he relents and takes it all in stride. He even tells his mother to call up all her relatives, even those who barely knows him, just to get everything over with in one go.

Most of the fights don’t even come from their disagreement, because Tetsurou is ready to call off the wedding altogether if Kei is in any way uncomfortable with it. No, the fights all come from Kei, who seems to be in argument with himself about how far he’s willing to go for Tetsurou. It’s frustrating, because Tetsurou doesn’t even want to put it all on Kei, yet touching, because even though he knows how much he means to the younger, it’s always astounding to be reminded all over again.

The comfortable silence suddenly breaks as a song suddenly blares, and Kei flinches at the loud noise. “Shit,” Tetsurou curses in a whisper and stops massaging Kei’s back, turning around to reach his vibrating phone in his suit on the chair beside the bed. He doesn’t even check who’s calling before he turns it off and throws it back on the bedside table. “Sorry.”

“That’s our song,” Kei croaks out of nowhere, voice scratchy.

Startled, Tetsurou almost falls off the bed as he twists. “What?” Kei doesn’t answer, opting to huff and gesturing to the general vicinity of his phone by flopping his hand. It’s fortunate that Tetsurou is already an expert in Tsukishima Kei. “Oh, yeah. Tooru thought it would be funny to change my ringtone to that after I told him the story last night. I couldn’t be bothered to change it.”

Kei exhales, and Tetsurou is so sure that he goes back to sleep that when he says, “You should sing it for me,” he thinks he’s still slightly drunk from last night. When he receives no answer, Kei opens his eyes slightly and stares at him with heavy eyes. “Tetsurou.”

“Kei,” he replies, unsure of what the hell is happening. “You should go back to sleep.” He falls back to his side, ready to massage him again. Or at least leech off his body heat with a cuddle.

Kei slaps his hand away, and when he pouts slightly (which he won’t call a pout, but they both know it is), Tetsurou realizes he’s not getting out of whatever Kei is spinning. “Are you really refusing my first request as your husband?”

“Oh, is that how you’re going to play?” He doesn’t answer, but his lips spread into a satisfied smirk even as he closes his eyes. Tetsurou sighs, already defeated. “You don’t even like my voice. I can hardly hold a note. Why are you doing this.”

“I like your voice,” Kei says dismissively, chuckling when he notices Tetsurou’s baffled expression at the blatant lie. “Trust me, I know you’re no singer. Go on.”

Tetsurou has never been good at saying no in the first place, but with Kei it’s nearly impossible, even when they barely had a friendship between them. He knows as well as he’s certain Kei does that he’s not going to deny him this weird yet simple demand, and Tetsurou sighs again. Kei snorts, but he reaches out and touches the side of his neck, gentle as he moves to run his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

He plays dirty, if anyone asks Tetsurou’s opinion. Tetsurou lets him win anyway, and starts the first tune.

It’s a pop song, which turns it into a hilarious joke between them and those who know them, considering Kei strongly dislikes anything on the Top 100. They first stumbled upon it on their first date, way before Tetsurou knows Kei’s opinion on pop music in general. He commented on the cheery tune, and Kei passionately talked about how brain-rotting the whole genre is, and Tetsurou knew immediately he’s in trouble when he couldn’t get the image of Kei’s annoyed frown out of his mind. The next time they did, it’s at the department store while they shopped for furniture, and apparently it stuck in his head because he unconsciously hummed it all over their home, driving Kei mad with the fact that he ended up looking up the song because of how catchy it is.

When he suggests it to be part of their wedding playlist, Kei looks so horrified with his own easy agreement that Tetsurou ends up in tears with laughter. And thus it becomes their song, and Tetsurou ends up singing, _You’re the apple to my pie,_ in a low, off-key voice.

Kei doesn’t even open his eyes when he finishes, simply says, “Your voice is truly horrendous.”

“I know,” Tetsurou says.

Kei hums, seemingly pleased, and turns away from him to bury himself into the comforter. “Love you,” he says, voice muffled.

Tetsurou laughs and dives right behind him, wrapping himself all over his husband and nuzzling at his neck, pressing small kisses across his shoulders. “I love you, too, the straw to my berry.”

He grins stupidly at Kei’s groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ushitsukkis)/[original post](https://twitter.com/ushitsukkis/status/1077269426527862784).


End file.
